


Fierce Like Hope

by magikfanfic



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Backstory, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, baby Jyn, soft space dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magikfanfic/pseuds/magikfanfic
Summary: As much as he wanted to, Saw Gerrera quickly discovered that he was not going to be able to keep his promise to the Ersos. The life that he led, the rebellion that he was building, brick by brick, slowly but with force and power, was not a life that meshed well with raising a child.2017 Spiritassassin weekPrompt 2: Alternative universe/timeline





	Fierce Like Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea of Saw being all "lol nos" at the idea of raising Jyn and taking her to the Whills for a bit so it seemed like something to use for this challenge. And then it sort of just imploded on itself so I'm not completely happy with this and maybe I'll revisit it later for something better.
> 
> But for now have this shambling mess.

As much as he wanted to, Saw Gerrera quickly discovered that he was not going to be able to keep his promise to the Ersos. The life that he led, the rebellion that he was building, brick by brick, slowly but with force and power, was not a life that meshed well with raising a child. Suddenly he understood Galen’s hesitancy, and the fact that Lyra--Lyra who he had always known to have a frown on her face, a shrewd look in her eye and at least three weapons on her person at all times--had exchanged her daggers for braids, had given up shooting for baking. There was something about a child, about their round doe eyes and their trust, that made the world softer somehow, made one want to put their head in the sand and stop looking at everything that was ugly because it was better to pretend, even in the middle of war. 

It was a view that Saw could not afford, and his was a life that was not suited for Jyn. It was beneath her. And, yes, he could keep her, he could raise her, he could pour the steel into her veins that had been her mother’s before her, but he found, looking at her face and her frown, that he didn’t really want to. His life was not safe. He had promised safety, the chance to grow up, and he could not deliver on those things without changing his entire world around.

In the end, it came down to one decision: work to save the universe or stop to protect Jyn. It should have been a harder decision, but Saw had always been a man who understood that you sacrifice the few to save the many. Lyra knew that to the core of her, and Galen had been aware, knew in that intellectual way he had, so Saw hoped that they would forgive him when it came to the decision he made regarding their Stardust. And if they would not forgive him, that was fine. Saw had never been a man who needed to be liked; he was a man who needed a cause but just one. Just one at a time. Jyn was one cause too many.

Saw could have written an eighteen page paper on why he chose Jedha with reference points and footnotes and a very long bibliography, but Lyra was not there to show it to, and Jyn was far too young to understand such an intellectual discourse about the benefits of the moon and its sacred city. He had tried to espouse some of the finer points to her on the freighter journey, but she had started crying when he was only about fifteen minutes into it because he had made the mistake of telling her that he was going away too. 

“Like Daddy?” she asked, and Saw was not the sort of man to lie when it wasn’t needed so he had answered in the affirmative, which was apparently not the right thing to do at all.

“This moon is home to crystals like the necklace Lyra gave you,” he said by way of trying to soothe her. Saw kept forgetting to say “your mother” instead of Lyra or “your father” instead of Galen. He was not able to keep himself from listing the numerous ways in which it was very improbable Jyn would ever see Galen again when she asked about it. The truth was important, and Saw had never learned that there was a line one needs to take when it comes to a child, something to draw in the sand and not cross because it can do more harm than good. 

Every tear on her face was another piece of proof that he was making the right decision. This was not a task that should have been left to him. 

“Would you like to hear more about the kyber crystals?” he asked, and Jyn, eyes red and cheeks stained from crying, just shook her head no. Saw had also discovered that Jyn was not as good of a conversationalist as Galen and this disappointed him because he had hoped to have so many more rousing discussions about the importance of a more militant opposition to the tyranny of the Empire, but Jyn just looked at him as though he was speaking in a foreign language instead of Basic. He was no good with children at all, he decided, but that did not mean that he could not make the universe safer for all of the ones to come.

There was only one place on Jedha for wayward children, for the lost, for the orphans, one place to take them where they would be safe, where they would be loved, where they would learn. Jyn Erso child of Galen Erso--a name that meant so much to so many people--would be able to fade here, would become just one more lost girl in a crowd, one more abandoned child in the press of so many others. There would not just be safety but friends her own age, children--and also adults--who would know how to act around a child instead of treating her as if she should just be another adult, though smaller and less capable of holding a proper blaster, which was the way that Saw treated her.

The last thing that he expected to find when he stood at the steps of the Temple of the Whills was it in ruin. Saw felt as if the breath had been pushed out of him by a hand--in his mind he imagined it as the hand of a Stormtrooper, covered in the white white of their armor, face hidden away, voice changed, barely living at all, barely more than a droid--as he looked at yet another precious thing that the Empire had managed to take from the universe. He had never known the Guardians and the Masters of the Whills, not in any way other than intellectually, which was how Saw knew most things, but he still felt an emptiness at the idea that they had been destroyed, that their knowledge and teachings might be lost. 

He settled a hand on the ruined door, charred to a crisp, cracked open by blaster fire, and imagined that he could feel how sad it was that it no longer stood. Jyn, holding onto his other hand, seemed not to know what to do, kept looking from him to the door and back again. Saw, short-sighted, never even took stock of her confusion, so adrift in his own thoughts was he. What to be done now was prevalent among them. He had taken so much time away from his cause to research a proper place to take Jyn, somewhere she might be safe, only to find that it was dashed to pieces. This had not ever occurred to him. He had no back-up plan. The Temple of the Whills had been his only destination, and it was ruined. All his plans were burned.

Jyn noticed the approach before Saw did because Saw was just looking at the door, at the walls, he was tipping his head up to the sky as though answers could be found in the rays of the sun like dust floating in the air illuminated by the gleam. So Jyn saw them first, the two men who stepped from the shadows. At first there was nothing, no one, and then they were there. Two men in robes that swirled around them, black and red and blue. One of them with close cropped hair and a staff and eyes a piercing, strange, pale blue, and the other one with a head covered in longer curls that reminded her of some of the animals one of the other farmers had. Back home. Home where she could not go anymore. Home with its water and crops. Home with her bed and the house that smelled like Mama and Papa who were gone. 

The larger man, the one with the curling hair, who was tall and big, smiled at her, and it was gentle. It was nothing like the way Saw smiled at her as though he didn’t know what to do with his lips or his teeth, as though he were faking it with every moment, desperately hoping he was doing it right. The first time he had done it, Jyn had been scared, scuttled backward a little, which made his smile falter, made him sad. This man, though, smiled softly, and she knew that he was the sort of man whose strong arms could sweep you up up into the air and then down, like a ship flying. Her father had done that sometimes, not often, because he was a very busy man, but he had done that sometimes, and she had loved it.

Maybe she should have told Saw about them, but Jyn thought it was strange to call him Saw, and he didn’t like Mr. Gerrera. Instead she just tugged on his hand, but he didn’t know what that meant to her so he just let her go, not in the least worried that she would run away or maybe hoping for it. Jyn wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem to like her very much, but maybe he just didn’t know what to do. It was like he had told her the day they met, the day he found her hiding, he didn’t have any children, didn’t know what to do with them so he was trying his best. Once, he’d told her, he’d had a plant, and he imagined that she was something like that, a cross between a plant and an adult, he’d said. Jyn didn’t feel like either of those things. She wanted to feel like Stardust again, but the only thing that managed that was the necklace her mother had given her.

Her fingers went to it, pulling it out from under her shirt so that she could rub her fingers over it. She kept her eyes on the men as she did so, and it was impossible to miss how they reacted. The one with the blue eyes cocked his head this way and that as though listening to something, eager, and he reminded Jyn of birds that sometimes flew into the fields. And the other one, the big one, the one who looked like the sort of man who would give long hugs and let her ride on his shoulders, frowned, became sad. His eyes, when she met them, looked wet, the way her father’s sometimes did when he tucked her into bed at night before they went to the farm, when he told her that he was working to make sure the bad dreams all stayed away. Jyn hadn’t understood it then, not really, but now she knew that look was tears, that look was something darker than just being sad.

“You have kyber,” the man with the blue eyes exclaimed, striding forward, smacking the end of his staff against the ground as he approached, and the noise made Saw spin, reaching for his blaster, before he took in the sight and stopped.

Jyn kept her eyes on the man who trailed after the smaller one, slowly, eyes always scanning the area around them as though looking for something, as though making sure it was safe. He always looked at her again, always smiled at her a little as though to reassure her that they would do no harm. He had a beard. Her father had a beard. 

“I seek the Guardians of the Whills,” Saw said, straightening himself to his full height, eyeing the men as they approached. It was obvious to him that the one who had spoken was blind based on the film over his eyes, but that did not mean he was harmless, especially not if these people were what he thought they were. His companion, large and quiet, tall and gruff certainly seemed like he could hold his own in a fight. They spoke of kyber, they looked the part, and Saw wondered whether he could have been lucky enough to find what he had come looking for, after all, even if the temple itself was smashed and desecrated, even if the Empire had found the cave of safety. It had been destroyed once. Surely there would be no reason to destroy it again. Jedha was a moon of immigrants, always had been. Travelers far and wide came here, stayed here. NiJedha was a crush of faces and customs and languages. This was the perfect place to hide a famous child even if the temple itself had fallen, hide her away with Guardians sworn to protect.

The man with the blue covered eyes clicked his tongue and drew closer, kneeling down in front of Jyn, head tilted slightly to the side, gaze fixed away from her. Oh, she thought, he can’t see. “Hello,” he said, grinning so big that his lips pulled up to show all of his teeth and some of his gums. “I am Chirrut Imwe. Who are you, youngling?”

Saw’s hand on her shoulder was tighter than it should have been, but it served to keep her from saying anything. Never say your name, he had told her. It would be dangerous for you and for your father. It would be dangerous for everyone. Even the people she told. Jyn had to forget that she was Jyn. Jyn had to forget that she was Stardust, but it was hard because that was all that she wanted to remember, that was everything that was nice.

“There are no Guardians anymore,” the other man said, the one with the curly hair, the one with the beard, the one who looked like he would be good for hugs or setting a hand on the back of her head the way her father used to when he was proud of her. 

And Jyn couldn’t help it, the tears rose again, spilling down her cheeks even though she had told herself that she wasn’t going to cry when Saw left her. It wasn’t even really that she liked Saw that much. He was nice enough, but he was strange. He said odd things, and she didn’t understand why he always seemed disappointed and in a hurry. But he was who she knew. She knew no one else. Especially when she was not allowed to talk about anyone. So Jyn cried.

Chirrut Imwe, the blind man, reached out to settle a hand on her arm, gentle, not the way that Saw touched, and said, “Your kyber shines like your heart. Even I can see it, and I cannot see anything, which is good because my husband looks like a bantha so I am spared the sight of his unkempt beard and hair. Shhh shhh, little one. Look at him. Look at the funny bantha man. Aren’t you a funny bantha man, Baze?”

“She is not an infant, Chirrut,” the other, the one she supposed must be Baze, said, and his voice was all sighs, but in the way her mother sometimes spoke to her father, the way that made them both laugh, and it was nice. It sounded comfortable. It sounded like sitting around a table eating dinner while the rain fell outside, knowing the green things were growing, knowing that they would sleep and rise in the morning and things would be okay. 

“Infant or not, I think she can spot a funny looking bantha man when she sees one.” The smile stretched forever, and it was infectious. Jyn grinned, though she did not laugh. The man, Chirrut, seemed to know without seeing. 

“You’re married?” she asked, looking from Chirrut to Baze, having forgotten almost completely about the lurking shadow of Saw Gerrera who had touched her once, to still her from forgetting herself, and then pulled quickly away. Not like the blind man who kept his hand on her arm, who radiated something peaceful and happy, who she would have loved to sink into for a moment, just to be held. Saw was not that kind. She had tried to hug him exactly once since he had found her, and he had frozen and gone still like a tree until she pulled away, less comforted than before the attempt.

“To my eternal regret,” came the reply from Baze.

“I didn’t think the Guardians of the Whills could marry. Aren’t you the cousins of the Jedi?” There was Saw with his questions. He was always asking questions. He had asked Jyn so many questions about what her parents had intended that first night that her head still spun thinking about it. Saw was a little like her father but missing all the things that she liked best. Like the hugs and the softness.

“There are no Guardians anymore. There is no more temple. And we were never one and the same with the Jedi.” Baze spoke slow, each word was precise and heavy, said in an accent that Jyn had never heard before, but one that she liked despite that. It was thick like the duvet on her bed back home.

Jyn liked the sound of his voice, wished he were reading stories instead of answering Saw’s questions about things she did not understand. Chirrut was still kneeling there, head tilted toward her as though he was listening to something, though his eyes were askance. “Do you have children?” Jyn asked, maybe wishing, maybe hoping. 

And then Chirrut’s face changed into something, an emotion that Jyn would not know the word for until many years later and even then find it hard to pin down: wistful. “No. We were never blessed.”

“Blessed?” Blessed was lucky. Or religion. Blessed was something strange like ghosts, not to be taken seriously, but Chirrut said it like it was as important as anything that Saw said about rebellions, as seriously as when her father called her Stardust. 

“Children are a gift. From the Force.”

The Force. Jyn had heard of the Force. Her mother had talked about it. It was linked to the kyber crystal. Her fingers found it, rubbing over it, and Chirrut inched just a little bit closer as though he knew it was there, as though he were trying to figure something out. His brow was furrowed the way her father’s always was when he was working.

“You are Guardians!” Saw’s voice was too big, too loud, almost as though he were himself a child in that moment, overly excited and altogether anxious. “I came looking for you.”

“Keep your voice down,” Baze rumbled, and to Jyn it sounded like a ship taking off, the thrum of it underfoot, sinking into everything. 

Chirrut straightened up, holding the hand without the staff out to her, not demanding, but waiting, and Jyn took it without a moment’s hesitation, liked the way her hand felt engulfed. Hand in hand, they walked to Baze’s side, Chirrut never stumbling or even seeming for a moment like he could not see everything around them. 

“I need you to take the child.”

The child. Still no name. Still Saw being so careful about who she was and yet cutting her out of everything completely. He had told her that there would be something like a school. He had told her that there would be other children and lots of people to care for her. All she saw in front of her were a ruined building and two men, one of them blind. There were no children. And yet. She was not afraid of them. She was not worried about staying with them because there was something. In the way that Chirrut held her hand. In the way that Baze smiled. In the fact that Chirrut knew about kyber. And Baze’s beard. They were small pieces that should not be enough to calm her and make her think that she would be safe with them, but she was fine. When she touched her necklace, it seemed warmer than ever before. As if it knew where it is. As if it knew them.

“We are strangers,” Baze started, tone indignant, face shocked and arms crossed over his broad chest. He seemed shocked, surprised that anyone would just offer them a child after less than ten minutes, that anyone could just blindly believe because of what they looked like, where they were. “How do you know that we did not just steal these clothes? How do you know that we are not thieves come to plunder the sacred temple?” Every word he said gave him away as a good man.

Chirrut was out of hands, but he prodded Baze’s back with his staff until his husband fell silent, glowering. “We will require payment.” Baze did that sigh again that Jyn heard earlier, but it was still not at all upset.

“The Temple of the Whills took in orphans all the time.” Now Saw was the shocked one.

“The Temple of the Whills had the means to do so. All is as the Force wills it, and the Force wills us to be poor at the moment.” 

Jyn was less interested in the adult talk than she was with Baze’s robes, black with a red sash and something blue under it. She twisted the fingers of her free hand into it, and the cloth was softer than she would have ever imagined. Soft like the fur of the cat she had once, before they went to live on the farm. She was not supposed to have a pet on the ship. Her father had brought it to her, and they kept it hidden. Jyn never found out what happened to the cat, her Meteor, when they left, but she hoped that it was safe, that someone was taking care of it.

Baze turned and hunched down until he was at her level, and his eyes were deep and wet again. His beard didn’t have as much grey as her father’s, and the curls in his hair seemed softer when he was close. “He’s wrong. You don’t look like a bantha,” she said because it was true.

“Thank you.” Said with a laugh at the end of it, fondness. Jyn hadn’t heard something talk to her like that in a while. Saw was always clinical and matter of fact, sounded more like the technical manuals her father had around the house about his farm equipment. “Where are your parents?”

Her breath caught. “My mother is dead, and they took my father.”

“Who took your father?” Not tired at the ends, not wanting every bit of information that she could give, which was how Saw talked. No, Baze sounded like he had all the time in the world, like he would wait there forever if he needed to in order for her to answer.

“Mr. Krennic. My father worked for him.” This was too much information already. Saw had told her not to give everything away. You will put us all in danger, child, he had said, eyes wide, but Baze asked in the way that people who are not dangerous ask. And Jyn wanted to tell him everything, wanted to sink into the chance to hand her worries over and have someone protect them. “My father left the Empire, but they came back. And they.” The words are stuck. “My mother.” The tears burned.

Then there was an arm around her, pulling her close into a chest covered in black and blue robes, a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair as she wept, a voice surrounding her that echoed and repeated. “There, there. You’re okay.” And then words that she couldn’t understand, words in a language that was not Basic, but it was beautiful, words that she knew the meaning of because she knew the tone. Love and safety and promises. She could hear her father in that language, don’t cry, Stardust.

If Baze had planned on arguing further about the fact that they could not take her, it was done the moment that he folded her into his arms, it was over the second he comforted her. Jyn was not going anywhere else, and neither of them would have let her anyway. Not even Chirrut with his flashing teeth and silly antics, demanding ridiculous things of Saw just because he liked to listen to him stammer and puff his chest out as he explained why he could not provide what was demanded. As Baze swept her up into his arms, carried her, the kyber crystal around her neck was so warm that Jyn feared it might burn through her shirt, bright and fierce like hope.

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](http://sarkastically.tumblr.com/).


End file.
